Chauncey's Walkabout
by Sir Weston
Summary: A oneshot about the infant Chauncey. What will this arrogant baby find as he walks around the mansion, spying on the other ghosts? And why is Neville upset? I think you should read on to find out. My first one shot, AND Luigi's mansion fanfic!


**I'm writing my first one shot today! It's about Chauncey, the lil' baby from the first Luigi's Mansion game, which by the way, is my favorite game of all time. (Me and my sister have written a full length novel based on it.)**

**Anyway, here you go.**

**CHAUNCEY'S WALK ABOUT**

The infant had never been taken seriously at the house. Though Chauncey was a child, he felt he was more mature than his older twin brothers, both of whom he looked down upon. He had been born a ghost, which meant that he possesed supernatural powers other ghosts could only dream of having. And one could say he had a bit of a smug air about him. Sometimes the child would even talk back to the adults in the house, as if he knew more than they did. Suffice to say, Chauncey was indeed a little brat.

Not to say that he wasn't intelligent. Oh no! Far from it! The baby would often sneek out of his crib when the others thought he was asleep and commence a walk about of sorts, gathering information. For what, he had not a clue. He had no goal in mind, only to learn. Learn about the other souls trapped in the house with him. Though Chauncey was smart, (smarter than the average baby), he was still young and had no concept of goals or "black mail."

And Chauncey would learn quite interesting things on his daily walks. No body ever knew he was there, so they would speak freely around him, without knowing any better. Whether they were alone, or with some one, the ghosts had plenty to say.

It was as he was wandering the house that Chauncey first learned of the problems suddenly facing the other ghosts. He was usually never interested in their problems, but today it seemed a bit different. He passed by the study first, as it was the first room from the nursery. As he passed it, he could hear his father, Neville, speaking. Intrigued, Chauncey turned invisible and floated through the door. He doubted whether he would have been noticed anyway, but he didn't want to take that chance.

What Chauncey found when he entered was Neville sitting at his desk, writing something. He was also muttering to himself as he wrote.

"...what does he expect me to do?" he was saying, "If this keeps up, I'll have to take drastic actions." Neville stood up, slamming the book he had been writing in shut. It was as if he didn't realize he was alone, because he kept on talking.

"Weston," Neville growled, "If he causes me anymore grief I'm going to do something."

Chauncey had only really heard Sir Weston's name, and had maybe met him once. The reclusive ghost spent much of his time down in the basement, in the cold storage. Chauncey tried to avoid going down there, if he could help it. Most of the others did. Even though they were ghosts, the others still found things that spooked them (his brothers, for instance, were afraid of wind, fire, ice, water, and girls alone.) Chauncey thought of them as pathetic.

But he was intrigued by what his father had said. Had Weston been doing something wrong? Since Chauncey had barely met him, he didn't know what he was like. So, as a way of something to do more than anything, he was going to find out what Weston was up to.

He crawled back into the hallway and out to the foyer. The chandelier was marvously lit, and Chauncey grinned to himself, thinking of how he sometimes liked to posses the thing and drop it on people's heads. Sort of like a desperoux, only not really.

He entered the first floor hallway, where he could hear the enormously large Mr. Luggs gorging himself on food, and could also make out the faint sound of Melody playing the ivory keys. As he passed by Madame Clairvoya's room, he could hear the woman deep in a trance, chanting a strange incantation. Thinking it best not to bother her, Chauncey headed straight for the basement.

The cellar was filled with dust as always, but this did not bother Chauncey. He simply floated right over it as he headed for the door. He hesitated as he floated outside the Cold Storage door. He had never been in there before, and he had no idea what Weston was like. But he felt he had to know what it was about him that had made Neville so upset. Gathering his courage, Chauncey turned invisible once more and floated through the door.

The cold storage was just as its name implied it would be: cold. Chauncey looked silently around, not immediately seeing Sir Weston. There was an area in the back corner crowded with junk, but as the room was dark, Chauncey could hardly make out any of it. But then he saw the soft glow that normally indicated a ghost. Chauncey couldn't remember in his one year of existance what Weston looked like, but he was almost certain that the ghost in the corner looked nothing like Chauncey's memory.

The ghost in the corner was frozen in a huge block of ice that Chauncey couldn't believe he had missed at first. Indeed, the ice itself seemed to be ghostly as it,too,faded in and out of sight along with its inhabitant. But surely the ghost in the ice was not Weston? How could he be sure without alerting his presense? Of course, Chauncey was not even sure that the ghost was even concious at all. Perhaps he could reveal himself, if only just to be sure.

So Chauncey faded back in, his eyes never leaving the block of ice. But the ghost inside seemed not to see him. Was it possible for even ghosts to freeze? Was this ghost beyond the afterlife, or was he waiting for something. Just a tad nervous, Chauncey crawled over to him.

Then, he spoke.

"Sir Weston?" he asked, "Are you Weston?"

The ghost did not respond.

"Are you even a ghost anymore?" Chauncey wondered, "Or are you trapped in that ice or something?"

When he still got no reply, Chauncey decided to take a course of action. He carefully reached out his small hand to touch the ice.

"Do not move," came a sudden, somewhat low voice. Startled, Chauncey jumped back and looked wildly around. He didn't see anything until he looked back at the ghost in the ice.

He was staring at him. Chauncey blinked stupidly at him, as if he were an inanimate object that he suspected of being posessed or something. And then the ghost spoke again.

"What do you want, child?" the ghost asked.

"A-are you Sir Weston?" Chauncey wondered, unusually nervous.

"I prefer just Weston, if you don't mind," he answered. His harsh, cold eyes softened a bit. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Was there? Chauncey had almost completely forgotten why he had come in here. Then he remembered. "Do you know why my dad is upset?" he questioned.

Weston scoffed. "How should I know what Neville is thinking?" was his response, "I am not married to him, nor am I his brother or keeper. It is of no concern to me why he is upset."

"But dad said you were causing him grief," Chauncey told him, some what accusingly.

"He told you this, did he?" Weston asked, raising his brow slightly.

"Well... no," the infant admitted.

Smirking, Weston straightened a little. "I see," he said, "Well, if your father has a problem with me, he can come down and tell me, can't he?"

"I guess," Chauncey replied.

Chauncey, his ego a little deflated from the encounter, started crawling back towards the door. But Weston stopped him.

"Oh Chauncey!" he called. Chauncey turned around. "Do pay more attention to your surroundings next time, won't you? We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, now would we?" Weston sneered at the infant as he quickly floated out the door and back to his room.

Suffice to say, Chauncey's smugness was knocked down a bit from the encounter from that day on. And he tried not to eavesdrop so much either.

The End.

**So there you have it. I have no idea why I wrote this, I just felt like it.**

**As you can probably tell, Weston is my favorite character, so I had to include him in this. Hope I didn't repulse you too badly! Don't forget to leave a comment as you leave, and don't forget your hat and coat!**


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